


I Don't Care It's Obvious

by RedRidingStiles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, First Dates, Flirting, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nurse Harry Styles, accident prone Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRidingStiles/pseuds/RedRidingStiles
Summary: “You mind telling me what happened?” Harry asks.“Well Lou here thought it would be a great idea to ride his board down the big hill on fifth street, you know the one right? Anyways he's going at least fifteen miles down that bitch and ends up falling off halfway down due to the fact he can't hold his liquor worth a shit.” The blonde explains, his words only slightly slurred as the two boys follow Harry down the hallway to an empty patient room.“Excuse me, Niall, not all of us are Irish bloody fuckers who can - ah, ah, ow, motherfucking shooting pains, shit,” The injured one, Lou, says. Harry wonders if it’s a nickname.“He kinda hit his head when he fell too, it's gonna be hard to tell considering some of the shit that comes out of his mouth usually but,” The dark-haired one pipes up, his voice soft and raspy.“Piss off. I don’t even know why you two are still here, Curly here and I can have fun all by ourselves, right Curly?” Louis slurs, peaking up at Harry through his messy fringe. Harry tried his hardest to ignore the little flutter of fondness that struck his chest, he was a professional, even if cute drunk boys with broken limbs don't often stumble into his ER room as often as you'd think.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 114





	I Don't Care It's Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> so this is super short but it's cute and I wanted to share since I've been MIA on twitter lately

Working the night shift in the emergency room has always been interesting, most people coming in too drunk to function or too tired to tell the nurse what was wrong with them. There is the occasional life to save, but Harry is young and has only been in the workforce for a little over six months, so he’s not often involved in those cases. Mostly it just makes for great party stories. It's almost three o'clock in the morning when the receptionist on duty comes back to tell him there are three drunk lads waiting out front. One of them most likely with a broken foot.

Harry hates dealing with drunk men, but he’s relieved to see it’s only a trio of good-natured looking boys, most likely in university. One is pale and shock blonde, another has dark hair hanging in his face and an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear, and the third, well. The third is a mess, vest torn and hanging off one shoulder, so clearly shitfaced with his caramel hair sticking up in different directions and clutching his foot in agony. Harry pushes the navy blue wheelchair over to where the three boys are sitting, introducing himself with a small smile.

“You mind telling me what happened?” Harry asks as he begins helping the boy into the wheelchair, careful to avoid any contact with his foot.

“Well Lou here thought it would be a great idea to ride his board down the big hill on fifth street, you know the one right? Anyways he's going at least fifteen miles down that bitch and ends up falling off halfway down due to the fact he can't hold his liquor worth a shit.” The blonde explains, his words only slightly slurred as the two boys follow Harry down the hallway to an empty patient room.

“Excuse me, Niall, not all of us are Irish bloody fuckers who can - ah, ah, _ow_ , motherfucking shooting pains, _shit_ ,” The injured one, Lou, says. Harry wonders if it’s a nickname.

“He kinda hit his head when he fell too, it's gonna be hard to tell considering some of the shit that comes out of his mouth usually but,” The dark-haired one pipes up, his voice soft and raspy.

“Piss off. I don’t even know why you two are still here, Curly here and I can have fun all by ourselves, right Curly?” Louis slurs, peaking up at Harry through his messy fringe. Harry tried his hardest to ignore the little flutter of fondness that struck his chest, he was a professional, even if cute drunk boys with broken limbs don't often stumble into his ER room as often as you'd think.

“Course, right after I get an X-ray of your foot.” Harry chuckles, parking the wheelchair near the bed and locking it in place.

“Alright, well, I’m hitting up the cafeteria, Louis. I think I’m drunk enough to eat hospital food,” The blonde, Niall, announces, exiting the room before Harry can even tell him that hospital food is delicious, actually. And that the cafeteria is closed. The other boy follows the blonde without a word, pulling the cigarette out from behind his ear and heading to the front entrance.

“Um, I’m gonna have to help you into a hospital gown before Dr. Payne comes in to look at your foot. Unless you think you can do it yourself,” Harry explains, trying to sound as clinical as possible. Louis is quite attractive, now that he’s getting a real look.

“Don't think I can do it on my own, to be honest, might start crying like a baby if I move my foot too much,” Louis admits, his words slightly slurred.

“Okay,” Harry chuckles, helping Louis up and onto the edge of the bed before moving to grab one of the hospital-issued gowns. Harry shuts the room door to give Louis some privacy as he helps him change into the gown, trying his best not to stare at the boy’s nicely tanned skin and instead do his job. He gets Louis down to his plain black briefs, the boy moving with Harry without complaint. Harry holds the gown open for Louis to slide his hands through, moving behind him to tie it in the back. Making sure to not look at the swell of the boy’s ass.

“Okay, so I’m just gonna go grab you some painkillers,” Harry says, helping Louis into the bed. He folds his discarded clothes out of habit and sets them in one of the visitor chairs.

Could you get me like, a few bottles of water too please?” Louis asks, his eyes drooping slightly as he sits back in the bed.

“Yeah, ‘course. There’s a remote here if you wanna turn on the telly, and buttons here if you need to adjust the bed. I’ll just be a minute,” Harry answers, smiling kindly.

“Thanks Curly, you're a saint.” Louis grins, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed up over his lap. Harry shakes his head as soon as he’s out the door. He doesn't need to be irrationally pining over sweet drunk boys. He goes over to the nurses' station to grab the boy’s file and the key to the medicine cabinet, reading over the file as he walks. Louis Tomlinson, twenty-four, and extremely accident-prone according to his medical history. Harry finds it endearing. Once he's grabbed the pain killers and a few bottles of water he returns to Louis’ room to find the boy flipping through the channels on the telly with a bored expression.

“Oh, thank God. I can’t feel my whole bloody leg and I’m parched,” Louis slurs once he sees him, completely neglecting the remote. Harry chuckles softly and sets the water down on the rolling table, handing Louis the pills as he uncaps one of the bottles for him.

“You mind if I take a look?” Harry asks once Louis swallows, gesturing to his injured foot.

“Have at it mate,” Louis shrugs, pulling the blanket up so Harry can have better access. Harry picks his foot up gently, observing it. It’s definitely fractured, sticking outward at an odd angle. He puts light pressure above the fracture, smiling apologetically as Louis hisses in pain. Just then the door swings open and Dr. Payne comes in, smiling at Louis as he greets him like they know each other. Which, Harry reasons, they probably have numerous times according to Louis’ file.

“So Louis what brings you here tonight?” Liam asks, moving over to stand near Louis’ bed.

“Fell,” Louis explains vaguely, not giving the same detailed albeit embarrassing recap his mates had. “Nurse Harold here says it’s fractured, but that doesn't take a genius. No offense, Curly.”

“None taken.” Harry laughs, handing Liam the boy’s chart. Liam starts to do his doctor thing, examining and scribbling on his clipboard.

“Okay. It’s most likely the tibia, but I want to take an x-ray to make sure because it’s also possible you fractured the metatarsals. We’ll keep you overnight and talk treatment in the morning, alright?”

“Alright doc,” Louis salutes, waving his hand around. Liam motions for Harry to follow him as he leaves the room.

“Upstairs is booked to the max with influenza and bronchitis cases so we’ll have to keep him down here for now. Can you set him up in room 15?”

“Yeah, absolutely. When did you want to do the x-ray?” Harry asks.

“You can do it now if you like, no one is in there right now,” Liam replies, handing the board back to Harry. Harry nods, accepting the board and tucking it under his arm. “Just keep him on the painkillers, one every four hours or so unless it subsides. Make sure you wrap his foot and check for signs of concussion before he sleeps.”

“After the x-Ray, you're going to have to show him how to shower with the cast on, might have to give him a sponge bath,” Liam adds, flagging down another nurse. Harry nods at Liam’s instructions, he knows the drill. Harry heads back to Louis’ room to take him to the X-ray room, explain to the boy what is going to happen.

“So I’m sure you know the procedure. I’ll inject the contrast dye and I need you to hold to your breath and stay still, yeah?” Harry instructs, pushing the wheelchair into the x-ray room.

“Sure thing curly.” Louis nods, giving the boy a thumbs up and a lopsided smile, still noticeable drunk. Even pissed, he’s a very good patient, easily following all of Harry’s instructions as he takes the x-ray. Once they're all done Harry takes Louis back to his room while they wait for the X-rays to process.

“Oh, nice, Zayn and Niall went to fucking Taco Bell. You can bet they won’t be back,” Louis groans, fussing with his phone after Harry’s assisted him in getting back into bed.

“Is Taco Bell even open at this time?” Harry questions, his eyebrows pulling together as he fixes Louis’ blankets.

“Who bloody knows?” Louis huffs, pouting as he swipes drunkenly for a bottle of water. Harry smiles softly as he props Louis’ foot up with a few pillows, telling Louis he will be back in a minute after he collects his X-rays.

Turns out he’s broken his ankle and one toe, both only slightly misplaced.

“Good thing is you most likely won’t require surgical treatment,” Harry explains after he has returned, pointing out the minor fractures as he shows Louis the scanned photos. “It’s up to Dr. Payne, but I’m guessing a short-legged cast and some painkillers, and in four to six weeks you’ll be fine.”

“What does that mean for me like work and skateboarding wise?” Louis asks, sipping on his water with both hands.

“You should be able to get around on crutches, but it depends on your job. And, um, I don’t recommend skateboarding,” Harry chuckles.

“Bummer.” Louis frowns. “So when am I getting this cast?”

“Morning,” Harry answers, his pager buzzing in his pocket. His other patient is due for medicine. “Well, later in the morning, anyway. You should get some sleep, or else your hangover’s gonna kill. But I’ll leave you some water and be back in a few hours to help get you washed up before they put it on.”

“Alright curly, thanks for all your help.” Louis smiles, snuggling further down into the bed. “Could you turn the lights off pretty please.”

Harry bites back a smile at Louis’ sleepy-soft expression and does as he’s asked before closing the door behind him.

He might have a tiny bit of a crush. So what.

*

Louis doesn't get his cast on till six that morning, Liam finally having enough time to set the boy up in one. After it’s all done, Harry gives him his dose of painkillers before wheeling him into the washroom for a sponge bath. Harry bags the boy’s cast tightly so no water will get on it before helping the boy take off his gown. Harry has to avert his eyes, wishing the boy wasn’t so bloody attractive to him. He hates feeling like he’s ogling him because he’s done this a hundred times and he really just needs to do his job without making anyone uncomfortable. Louis is quiet for the most part, listening to Harry as he tells him what he should and shouldn't do while bathing with the cast.

Harry is pleased with how well it’s going, and how absolutely not-awkward everything is, until it’s time to do Louis’ backside and he fucks everything up.

“Move over,” Harry blurts out, immediately blushing because that is not what he meant to say. He’s horrified, wondering if it’s possible to drown himself in the sink, but a grin slowly forms on Louis’ lips.

“Not sure if there’s enough room for both of us, but trust me, I’ll certainly try,” He jokes, smile wide and eyes sparkling.

“I didn't mean-I was trying-fuck um.” Harry stutters, stumbling over his words. Louis’ smile softens and he pats Harry’s hand.

“Relax, I know what you meant, curly. Just taking the piss,” He says softly.

“Sorry, you're just like-and-” Harry can't believe he's this incapable of forming a sentence.

“Fuck, you’re cute,” Louis cuts off his humiliating stumbling. Harry’s cheeks are probably as red as Louis’ cast right now, his curls falling down into his face as he ducks his head down.

“T-Thanks,” Harry mumbles, weakly squeezing more water over Louis’ skin as he tries to get back on track. “This is so unprofessional. I’m sorry.”

“Well let's make it even more unprofessional. Let me take you on a date.” Louis replies, smiling cheekily. It takes Harry aback, so much that he almost drops the washrag in his hand. He’s quiet for a second until he notices the confidence slowly dropping from Louis’ expression and he rushes to answer.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah,” He responds, fighting a goofy smile.

“Perfect, when I'm not getting a sponge bath we should talk about details.” Louis nods, smiling up at Harry. Harry smiles and ducks his head, and they finish up the bath quickly.

Once Harry has gotten Louis back to his room and ready to be discharged the round of morning nurses are just checking in to take over for the night shifters. They’ve agreed to meet at a barbeque place downtown at seven the next Saturday night when Harry has the night off, but Louis insists that Harry writes his phone number on his cast just in case. Louis’ friends come back to take him home right before Harry clocks out, the dark-haired one telling Louis he's going to trick out his cast when they get him home. Louis smiles and waves at Harry as he crutches out, Harry’s name, number, and a little smiley face shining with fresh Sharpie on the back of the plaster.

*

“Gem, what am I meant to wear I don't go anywhere but the hospital all I own is scrubs.” Harry groans into the phone as he lays on top of his bed. He has to leave in twenty minutes to meet Louis at the restaurant and his nerves were making him second guess why he bought every article of clothing he owned.

“You’re telling me you haven’t gone out in sixth months,” Gemma deadpans. Harry is quiet. “Jesus, H, I can’t believe you’re the only legacy of the Styles family.”

“Mean, just mean. I don't know why I called you.” Harry pouts, his bottom lip sticking out even though Gemma can't see.

“Oh shut it, wear those black trousers and the blue and white sheer shirt that you wore to mum’s birthday.”

“...You really think I should go sheer? I don’t want him to think -”

“Wear it.”

“Fine, you're so bossy,” Harry grumbles, pushing himself off the bed to get dressed anyway.

“You asked me, brother,” Gemma says, the phone on speaker as Harry picks through his closet for her suggestions. Harry can see her shrug, her playful eye roll, and he smiles to himself. He could never actually be cross with his sister for her attitude.

“Do you think I should go with dark brown or black boots?” Harry questions, finally finding the shirt in the far back of his closet.

“Hm, go dark brown, I think,” Gemma answers. Harry’s already stripped down to his pants, so he begins wiggling into his too-tight jeans. He finally manages to get them up, throwing his shirt on and quickly buttoning it up. He combs his hair back from his face with a little product, stuffing his socked feet into his boots and staring at himself in the mirror.

“You look fine H, stop staring at yourself in the mirror and get your tiny arse in gear.” Gemma snips through the phone.

“Okay, okay,” Harry laughs, taking in a deep breath before grabbing his keys. “I’m gonna go. Thanks for dealing with me Gems.”

“No problem little brother, call me tomorrow, I wanna know all the details,” Gemma responds, saying a quick goodbye before hanging up.

Harry heads out of his flat and down to the street, getting into his car and making it to the restaurant with two minutes to spare. The hostess leads him to a table near the front for two, setting a few menus down and telling him his waitress would be with him in a bit. Harry drums his fingers on his leg as he waits, barely even able to focus on the menu. When the waitress comes by to ask him what he'd like to drink he just orders water for now, not wanting to drink and show Louis what a lightweight he is. He waits for ten minutes before he starts to be worried, checking his phone to make sure that it is, in fact, seven p.m on Saturday. When ten minutes turns to twenty he feels embarrassment creep upon him, he can't believe he's getting stood up.

Obviously Louis was playing a joke, one that Harry apparently didn’t get. He feels stupid, and once half an hour passes there’s no way Louis’ going to show, so he gets up to leave. He's just getting up to leave when his phone starts to vibrate signaling that he has an incoming call from an unknown number.

“Hello,” Harry answers, still annoyed and upset and for some reason, it doesn't click that it could be Louis.

“Hey Curly it's Louis, I'm so sorry I meant to call you earlier but I was in the middle of an X-ray. I tripped over a bloody laundry basket and broke my arm trying to get ready for tonight.” Louis says in a rush. It startles a laugh out of Harry, just the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Oh, shit,” He giggles, sobering up. “I thought you’d maybe just asked me out to get me to shut my big mouth. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, mentally my pride is a little bruised if we're being honest but physically it's just my arm,” Louis responds seriously.

“What kind of takeaway do you like?” Harry asks, moving to stand once again. He throws two notes on the table just for being an inconvenience before heading for the door.

“Um anything really, quite like Chinese,” Louis replies, a nurse in the background telling him to please not shove anything in his cast.

“Okay, anything specific? I’ll just pick something up and we can hang out? I had a proper strop getting ready for tonight, so I’d quite like to see you, if that’s alright,” Harry chuckles, standing outside the restaurant with his hand in his pocket.

“Yah no that'd be sick, um you can just grab me like a thing of sesame chicken and rice.” Louis replies.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in thirty, don’t break anything else,” Harry jokes, shaking his head.

“No promises,” Louis mutters, saying a quick goodbye to Harry before hanging up. Harry calls the Chinese place and picks up the food quickly, arriving at the hospital within his promised timeframe and greeting Perrie at the desk.

“I have a very enthusiastic boy with two broken limbs waiting for a ‘smoking hot curly haired nurse’ that's apparently is coming in to see him. That wouldn't happen to be you would it?” Perrie questions, smirking as she finishes typing on her computer.

“Oi, just tell me his room number,” Harry sighs, breaking out a smile nonetheless at Perrie’s teasing.

“Room 11, go get your boy.” Perrie smirks, handing him a bottle of medication. “Give him these too, twice a day for two weeks.”

Harry nods and turns to leave, takeout bags hanging from his wrist as he walks to room 11 feeling just a tiny bit nervous. When he walks in Louis is sitting in a gown with his foot propped up and his arm now in a matching red cast.

“To think I spent so bloody long picking my outfit and you still have to see me in an ill-fitting cotton dress,” He huffs when Harry walks in, his lower lip sticking out adorably.

“Maybe next time, if you don't break any more bones that is.” Harry chuckles, sitting down in the chair next to Louis’ bed.

“Well, maybe someone should tell Zayn not to put laundry bins full of art shit in the middle of the living room, where innocent boys on crutches pass through,” Louis pouts.

“Well, you'll be in a wheelchair for about two months now so I'd say laundry bins full of art supplies might not be your biggest problem.” Harry laughs, opening up their containers.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. That’s just sex appeal at its finest, eh?” Louis snorts, peeking into the boxes.

“Definitely, I think you'll rock a wheelchair.” Harry nods, handing Louis his chicken and a fork. Louis grins, ducking his head as he begins to eat his food.

“Thanks for coming, though, really. I was really bummed out that I couldn’t go tonight.”

“No problem, though I do feel like I spend way too much time here.” Harry sighs, laughing slightly.

“Yeah, right, me too,” Louis snorts, his laugh joining Harry’s. They eat with light conversation, joking with each other easily. Louis’ funny and makes cute faces and laughs genuinely at Harry’s jokes even though he probably shouldn’t. It's nice, really really nice. Harry doesn't think he's had this good of a night in six months. He really needs to get out more. Even after they finish their food Harry’s not ready to leave, the two of them watching shitty reality telly on the small screen in the corner. They end up sitting together on the bed, Being mindful of Louis’ broken limbs.

At one point Harry turns his head towards Louis to make a comment and finds the boy already facing him, their noses brushing.

“Did I ever tell you you've got really beautiful green eyes.” Louis whispers, his eyes watching Harry's.

“And you've got really pretty long eyelashes,” Harry responds, his heart pounding so loud against his ribs he thinks Louis might hear it.

“Would it be inappropriate to kiss you?” Louis asks, his hand resting on Harry's thigh.

“Maybe, but I really want you to, so,” Harry shrugs, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

“I'm gonna do it.” Louis decides out loud, leaning in till their lips are just about to brush against one another.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” Harry mutters, his lips brushing Louis’ as he speaks.

“Can't have that,” Louis replies, closing the gap between their lips. Harry breathes out through his nose the minute they touch, Louis’ soft mouth moving slowly against his. Harry never thought a kiss could be like in storybooks, with the fireworks and animals singing. Harry feels like this is what everyone is talking about. His fingers come up to cradle Louis’ jaw, feeling his freshly shaven skin. Harry can't help but press himself in closer to Louis, their lips moving together smoothly. Louis is the first to break it, but it’s only to smile and duck his head before swooping back in again. They snog for a good few minutes before Louis’ nurse knocks on the door to tell him he's ready to be discarded. Louis detaches quickly, Harry grinning dopily at him.

“Shit, I can just text Z and ask him to pick me up -”

“Don’t be silly, Lou, I can drop you off.”

“Asking to take me home, curly?” Louis jokes, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“Not sure we’d get very far,” Harry smirks, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing.

“Because I'm broken or because you don't fuck on the first date?” Louis asks, smiling when Harry hands over his clothes to him.

“Maybe this isn’t an appropriate thing to discuss in my place of work, but,” Harry shrugs, pushing Louis’ wheelchair to the side of the bed. “I have no problem fucking on the first date. So mostly the first one.”

“Uncool,” Louis mutters at his casts, narrowing his eyes like they personally offended him. Harry chuckles, holding his arms out to help Louis into his chair.

“Don’t worry, I can wait,” He says.

“Does this entitle more dates?” Louis questions, propping his feet up onto the lifts.

“Yeah. Maybe we can even go somewhere other than here,” Harry nods.

“Woah there curly, don't jinx us.” Louis responds, grinning when Harry laughs.

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” Harry chuckles. “But seriously, I’d like to see you again. I had a good time.”

“Me too, we can plan something next time you're off if you want.” Louis says as Harry wheels him out to the car. Harry helps him into the front seat and folds the chair into the back, before clambering into the driver’s seat.

“Well I have your number now so I can text you and we can plan it.” Harry states as he starts the car.

“Well. I’ll be doing nothing except wheeling around my flat and watching telly for the next few weeks so I'm sure we can work something out.”

“Something yah,” Harry promises, smiling over at the boy. Harry thinks this adorably clumsy boy is just what the doctor ordered.


End file.
